


Luke 3:11

by oneiriad



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2548133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneiriad/pseuds/oneiriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And he answered them, “Whoever has two tunics is to share with him who has none, and whoever has food is to do likewise.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luke 3:11

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Vikings does not belong to me. I'm just playing.
> 
> **A/N** : Written for ximeria, who gave the prompt:
> 
> "Is that my shirt?"

"Björn found it for me. I - I needed something to wear that wasn’t so…"

"Christian?"

Ragnar cocks his head, not smiling. Pouts.

"But what if I wanted to wear it?"

"It is your tunic. Of course. Just - let me go ask Torstein if he’ll lend me his spare tunic."

Ragnar’s fingers tighten on the woolen fabric.

"Of course. But perhaps you should give me my tunic back first?" and he reaches out, tugging lightly at a blue sleeve.

He expects blushing. Maybe stammering. Perhaps even getting to enjoy the sight of his favourite Englishman wandering half naked across the deck of the longship.

The Athelstan he remembers from last summer, the Athelstan that had smiled at him while covered in Saxon blood, exhilerated at his first real fight - that’s how he would have reacted.

He doesn’t expect the other man to swallow nervously and step backward, pulling the sleeve out of Ragnar’s light grip.

"I’ll just - go ask Torstein," and there’s something broken beneath the surface that threatens to break Ragnar’s heart, that makes him want to gather his men and storm back to Ecbert’s royal villa and demand to know what happened. What has been done to his Athelstan?

He wants to growl.

Instead, he reaches out, halting Athelstan’s retreat by dragging him into a one-armed hug.

"Don’t. It suits you."

He leads Athelstan back to the stern, takes over the rudder and settles his Saxon by his side, seemingly absent-mindedly stroking his hair as he sets the course for the open ocean.

As the English shore shrinks behind them, Ragnar feels how the tension gradually flows out of Athelstan, until finally he melts against Ragnar’s side, soft and warm. Ragnar smiles and leans down, presses a quick kiss against Athelstan’s forehead just before sleep claims the younger man, frowning at the feeling of tiny scars beneath his lips.

For a moment Ragnar watches the other man’s sleeping face, before turning his attention back to the ocean and the task of steering the longship, already planning the revenge he will take when next they visit Wessex’s shores.

He doesn’t notice that he’s still stroking Athelstan’s hair.


End file.
